


Emergency Contact

by cosmicchelc



Series: Lucifendi Stories [19]
Category: Layton Brothers: Mystery Room, Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: 5 Times, Accidents, Blood and Injury, F/M, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Lucy is Prone to the Hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicchelc/pseuds/cosmicchelc
Summary: Alfendi has never been someone's emergency contact before, but since he's working with her, he might as well be.In other words, Lucy is very prone to getting herself in A&E.
Relationships: Lucy Baker/Alfendi Layton
Series: Lucifendi Stories [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1106973
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Emergency Contact

**Author's Note:**

> good grief, I need to stop writing. I've never felt the need to write so much in so long, it's very...liberating and also very crazy. I need to work on my longer stories, ahaha.
> 
> I have an amnesia fanfic in the works, among other one shots featuring Dartwright and all this other fun stuff. I cannot believe the storm of writing I've been doing. I hope you enjoy!

The first time it happens is when he's at home, in his flat, making himself a cuppa. His mobile rings, it's shrill tone annoying to the ears and Al makes a mental note to alter it, but forces Fendi to be at the forefront when he answers.

"Inspector Alfendi Layton."

"Ah, hello, Inspector. I'm Rory, from St. Bart's Hospital. I'm calling in regards to Lucy Baker--" Alfendi's eyes widen to the size of polo balls, much to his surprise as the man on the other end continues. Al is ready to bark orders at the man--perhaps to tell him to get on with his words--while Fendi listens intently. "--she's in A&E at the moment, mild contusions, road rash, and a slight concussion. Car accident, I'm afraid."

"I'm on my way." He dashes out of the flat, hastily locking the door and completely forgetting the cuppa that he so desperately wanted a minute ago.

It doesn't quite hit him that Lucy even sets him as an emergency contact until he's already in the cab, Al barking an order to the cabbie, who merely nods and steps on it without another word uttered between the two gentlemen. Alfendi knows better than to panic, such thinking leads to rash decisions. But why was he considered Lucy's emergency contact? He was sure that the young Detective Constable had family, people that he was sure held more value than he did. Perhaps for the sake of convenience?

The ride to Bart's is swift, much to his satisfaction. He tosses the cabbie a few notes and dashes inside, remembering all too well the last time he had ever stepped foot in a hospital four years ago, leaving with more than just a scar. But that didn't matter at the moment--Lucy did. For a pesky assistant--Al's words, not Fendi's--she was quite indispensable to him, even if they didn't want to quite admit it.

"Lucy Baker." Fendi says, letting himself catch a breath. The man at the counter, with a badge that showed that his name was Rory, raises an eyebrow.

"Alrighty that was fast. New record, I'd say, Mr. Layton. She's behind that curtain over there." The man, whose voice was easily recognizable from the mobile, motions at one of the drawn curtains. Al would ask about the additional insinuating tone beneath Rory's words, but he lets it pass. For now. Fendi nods, striding over and stepping over the curtain.

Lucy seems surprised that he even was there, blinking her eyes before acknowledging that he was in fact present and her eyes were not actually playing with her. "Ee, Prof... What are you doing here?"

"They called." He said dryly, "Baker, what the _hell_ are you doing in A&E?" Al glares at her, examining her injuries. As Rory had mentioned, bruises were here and there and some road rash. She smiles weakly at him, sheepish.

"May or may not 'ave pushed someone outta the way of a car." Alfendi shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Lucy continues on, "Prof, it was a _child_. I saw what happened and I did what any good person woulda done." Of course. Lucy would push a child out of a way if it meant saving them. Her heart astounded him.

"Yes, but..." Al groans, already frustrated with the amount of incompetence his assistant was displaying. Lucy smiles despite her condition. To irritate him, perhaps, he's not quite sure. "Never mind, Baker. I'll see to it that you're brought home and _not_ jumping in front of any more cars. Concussion, right? I won't let you fall asleep."

"Aye, Prof." She raises her arm and does a salute to him, much to his annoyance. Rather than entertaining her, Alfendi returns back to the desk, furrowing his brow. Rory looks up to him expectantly from his paperwork.

"Yes, Inspector?"

"Why did you call me? I'm sure Lucy has next of kin." Fendi inquires, eyes narrowing. "I'm merely her co-worker."

"You're who she put. Standard protocol means to call whoever is listed." Now that didn't sound right. At his confused expression, the nurse pulls up Lucy's file and points to a section that was much cause for eyebrows to be raised.

**_EMERGENCY CONTACT: Alfendi Layton_ **  
**_RELATIONSHIP: N/A_ **

"Never quite seen someone have their relationship being non-applicable, but seeing that you're co-workers, I can put 'friend' on file if you so desire?" Rory asks, looking up to Alfendi, who merely blinks and somehow manages to shake his head.

"No, it's fine. What she does is up to her. I'm just...surprised." Fendi supplies and Rory nods, looking to the curtain where Lucy was already standing, ready as if she hadn't been almost run over by a car. She looks a little worse for wear, but still strong enough to get up by her lonesome.

"By 'eck Prof, I haven't grown another 'ead, 'ave I?" She asks him playfully. At the eyeroll that was bidden by Al, Lucy giggles and comes close. "Let's go?"

"Of course, my dear Lucy."

* * *

The second time he finds himself getting another phone call from A&E, it's for a reason that makes his blood go cold. He was early to the Mystery Room, ready for Lucy to barge in late and offer futile excuses on why. He never really minded her being late--sometimes she would even come to the back office with her coat still half unbuttoned, a piece of toast still in her mouth. It amused Alfendi greatly, even if it caused their day to start late because Lucy still needed to finish her breakfast and get a breather.

What didn't amuse Alfendi was having his phone trilling that awful ringtone that he once again forgot to change because he typically didn't get phone calls. He is beaten to the punch in introducing himself, however, as the person on the other end addresses him first.

"Mr. Alfendi Layton?"

"Yes?" He asks, still glancing at the case file that he was going to have Lucy look at today. It was a murder, one that he was sure she could find all the evidence for in five minutes, perhaps less. If she got here in time. He barely registers the words the woman on the other line is saying. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

A slight exasperated sigh barely misses the speaker, but the woman on the other end still repeats herself, "My name is Clara, sir. I'm calling in regards to Lucy Baker, as you are her emergency contact."

"What happened?" He asks. Al is bristling--ready to perhaps strangle Lucy for once again putting herself in the risk of danger.

"She's had a bit of a scuffle with a mugger that attempted to apparently get her while she was on her way to work. She managed to fight him, it seems, but she was hit in the side." All the colour in his face drained. That's why she was still missing after the half hour had passed. He doesn't say anything for a moment. Clara helpfully adds, "She's been asking for you, sir."

"She has? Where has she been hit?" Al practically growls, to which Fendi shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Near her hip, sir." Clara supplies. He blanches, the blood running through his veins grows cold. That wouldn't have been good. Realizing that he's wasting time just standing there, he mutters an affirmation on the phone and makes a mad dash out of the office. He passes Hilda, who asks what's wrong, but he didn't care.

Luckily, the Prof finds a cab easily enough and asks to be taken to St. Bart's without a second thought in his mind except to make sure that Lucy was okay.

He's already out of breath by the time he reaches A&E, to the desk that he was at not too long ago, perhaps a month or two. Same wood desk, same lilies that were clearly fake in some cheap vase. A different person is manning the desk--not Rory--however, and gives him a once-over when he blurts out, "Lucy Baker."

"Are you family, sir?" Right. He was an emergency contact but wasn't quite family. Al, irritated by this formality nonsense, pulls out his badge from his lab coat. Abuse of power, he muses, but he didn't care. The nurse nods, looking at the computer screen as she types frantically and searches for Lucy's quarters. He peers down at the file that was on the woman's desk. It was Lucy's, much to his luck and he is able to read the upside down words:

**_EMERGENCY CONTACT: Alfendi Layton_ **  
**_RELATIONSHIP: Friend_ **

"Room 302, sir." Fendi slips out a thanks. It must have been bad enough that she'd been sent into a room, but he doesn't try to think of that as he makes his mad dash over. He pushes open the door without much manner and Lucy is there as a doctor is looking over her wound. Her eyes are closed, though she was breathing. He inhales a sharp breath, the physical labor he went through to get there finally catching up to him.

"Lucy?" Fendi asks and the woman's eyes open. She quirks a small smile to him, despite the situation at hand. He almost wants to slap sense into her. "I hear you're asking for me."

"'ey, Prof. Sorry, I'm late to work again. Asked for ya so I could apologize and you wouldn't have to hear it later." She says, her voice a little hoarse. A blatant lie, but he doesn't call her on it. She called him here for reassurance, he's sure of it He shuffles close enough that he can touch her hand, but he stays at an acceptable distance apart. "Won't 'appen again." She says that, but he knows it's going to happen anyway without intervention from his part.

"I think you have other things to be concerned about than being late, Miss Baker." The doctor, at least, shared the same view Alfendi did. His assistant, for all her brilliance, was a bloody moron.

"Is she going to be fine?" Fendi asks and the doctor nods, finished with what he was doing.

"Yes. Luckily for Miss Baker, it is a mere graze. Nothing to necessarily be worried about. She will be fine, the intensity of how much blood that was lost exaggerates the wound." Alfendi looks to her clothing, seeing the contrast of dark red against her cream blouse. He realizes that he's never really seen Lucy outside of her coat, a fact that he pushes deep inside. He could imagine there was more blood on the outdoor clothing, though he merely sighs.

"I'm not going to let you walk alone by yourself, Lucy. To and from the Yard." Fendi says, arms crossed and Lucy shakes her head. Al opens his mouth to make an argument, to which Lucy shakes her head even more fervently. "If I had known that getting yourself in A&E was your hobby..." He trails off, massaging his temples with the pads of his fingers in frustration.

"It's just an accident Prof. And it's not a hobby! I've only been here twice." She says and Alfendi narrows his eyes. She must be hooked up to some sort of drug because that statement on its own was much more idiotic than anything any previous criminal had stated in the past. Moronic. Absolutely moronic.

"An accident? Baker, someone tried hurting you. Deliberately, when you were getting to work. That's unacceptable." Al says. The doctor raises an eyebrow at the change of address to his patient, but doesn't say anything. Lucy crosses her arms and huffs. The doctor shakes his head and she lets her arms fall flat to her sides instead.

"Wrong place and wrong time, Prof." When that didn't soothe Alfendi's tense facial features, she sighs and concedes. "Alright, fine. But don't complain if I'm taking too long to get out of my flat. I take awhile." He cracks a small smile, one that Lucy returns in equal fashion.

"Wouldn't dream of it, my dear."

* * *

The third time, he's abroad and doesn't get the call. He doesn't know she's gone to A&E until he comes back to the Mystery Room the following Monday morning with quite a sight: Lucy in a cast and hospital issued crutches leaning against the wall. She smiles sheepishly at his arrival, already fiddling with the Reconstruction Machine while he was away. It was the first time he had ever seen her early to work, much to his surprise.

"What happened?" She swallows, scratching the back of her head. Al glares at her, "Baker. An explanation."

"Ee...I tried playin' football. One of the blokes at the Yard asked so... I er...didn't know what I was doin'." She shrugs, as though the concept was childsplay. "Broke a bone. It'll be fine."

"Another trip to A&E?" He asks, shaking his head as he steps forward, picking up the case file that was next to the Reconstruction Machine. It takes him another moment to realize what else she had said, "A _bloke_?"

"Ee...yeah." Her smile borders on a sly one; he wants to wipe it off her face, immediately.

"Who?" He presses the issue, glaring down at her. She lets out a low exhale, as though he was going to explode at the mention of who it could be. "Lucy."

"Yeah. Inspector Dartwright asked if I played any sports. I told him I played football as a bairn. He seemed to be up for it." His eye twitches at the mention of Dartwright and his hand turns into a fist at the idea that _he_ was the reason for Lucy's injury.

"That man couldn't balance a ball for the life of him." Al says instead. 

"You're just sayin' that because you don't like 'im." She rolls her eyes, "Are you jealous?"

"You seem to make it a habit, going to A&E." He says instead, ignoring the prickling beginnings of churning anger in his chest. He would definitely have a couple of choice words with that _Bratwright._

"Not intentionally! It's just bad luck for the past er...two months." She giggles. He scowls, but eyes her cast. It was still fairly new, scribbles of people signing the pink plaster from different people in the Yard. How very childish, he muses.

"That doesn't matter, Lucy. You're putting yourself in danger. That's unacceptable. I'm..." His words fade away and he instead crosses his arms, thinking of the possible accidents she could have gotten since he was away. Luckily, it wasn't like the mugger or the car collision. Just her own doing. Perhaps he won't be going abroad for awhile, not while she was so accident prone. Well, prone to trips to A&E.

"Are you worried for me, Prof?" At his lack of response, her giggles intensify. He's sure his scowl deepens, for she hobbles closer and puts a soft hand on his cheek. "You've been worried for me! And you're jealous! Of Inspector Dartwright of all people! It's practically written all over your face. Ooh, that's a good one."

"If you want to keep that leg, Baker, I suggest you cease your teasing immediately." Rather than being dissuaded, Lucy's grin only widens knowingly and she turns her attention back to the Reconstruction Machine without another tease. He knows she's still thinking about it by the way she shoots him amused looks and it should annoy him. It doesn't. If anything, he finds it endearing. He frowns at that, but doesn't tell her. 

He makes a mental note to sign the cast when she's not looking.

* * *

The fourth time is much more intense and doesn't come until after a year of their partnership.

There is no phone call needed because he's there, living the moment, _watching_ it happen in real time. No shrill ringtone, no tired nurse on the other end letting him know that Lucy had gotten herself injured. No, this was worse.

They went to a real crime scene, for once, as the Reconstruction Machine had been malfunctioning and needed repair; something that didn't happen everyday. It wasn't a case that could necessarily be put on hold due to how high profile it was, so to his—at least Fendi's—dismay, they went to the scene.

One of the positives that the trek gave was that it provided much of a learning adventure for Lucy. The theatre was her first proper time on a crime scene--one that didn't occur four years ago, at least. It was supposed to be fine. He expected her to make great deductions, expected that she could find all the evidence in five minutes, expected that they could go for lunch at the nearby cafe around the corner. He had wanted to take her out for awhile now, but never quite had the time, not with the cases they've been accumulating.

What he hadn't expected was the stagehand--one of the suspects--pulling out a gun in his fear of being caught and trembling. They had cornered him in one of the wings and his reaction was to shoot Lucy when she tried stepping forward to diffuse the situation--an idiotic move from both sides. By his trembling, the young man shouldn't have been able to get a clean shot. Just their luck. Officers that had come along with them were already subduing the man and taking the weapon from him, but Alfendi didn't care--what was in front of him had mattered more.

Lucy.

"Lucy!" The name is ripped from his throat before he can even process the action, his arms catching her falling body as fresh blood blossoms from the fresh hole near her hip. She gasps, grabbing onto the Prof tightly as her hat falls unceremoniously down onto the floor. He tears open her beloved coat, allowing more access to the actual wound and he frantically holds his hand against it, applying apt pressure. Her own hand is on top of it and she is heaving massive breaths into her lungs as though she hadn't had enough in so long, cursing under her breath.

"Pressure, Prof. More pressure. Come on, didn't you learn anything from training? Pressure on the wound, stop the blood loss." She pushes down on his hand and he nods, both personalities in a complete and utter loss, only seeing one objective: care for Lucy Baker. He tries to assess it. The bullet is still in her, there was no exit wound. She could still go into shock. It's the second thing that she had to worry about, if blood loss isn't her killer.

"I know, I know, I am." He babbles, his jaw rigid and unsure of how to proceed. "We should have waited until the machine was fixed."

"No point, Prof. We got our suspect though, don't we?" She let out a low groan, closing her eyes sluggishly. He removes his lab coat, ripping it into pieces and shoving parts against the wound. The now torn white coat is stained wine red, the newspapers crinkling even further and Lucy puts her bloodied hand on his wrist, driving it further against the wound. In a normal situation, he would have been regaling at how beautiful the crimson looked against the white, how the contrast was delectable. But this time, he can't find himself feeling any sort of mirth towards it. Instead, he feels hollow, his stomach plummeting several stories down. "More pressure, Prof. Come on."

"Dammit, Baker, _breathe more!_ Don't you dare close your damn eyes on me! I'll cut your eyelids before you can let that happen!" Al snaps and Lucy forces her eyes open, laughing. But the sound, which was so filled with joy normally, was devoid of it. Absolutely mirthless. She winces at the movement of her chest.

"Alright. Just for ya, Prof. No need to get violent. I kinda like my eyelids. They 'elp me sleep at night, y'know?"

"Keep looking at me, Baker." It comes out as an order, the timbre of his voice deeper than normal. Her eyes are staring directly into his, perhaps for some sort of anchor against the tides of unconsciousness that kept attempting to whisk her away from him.

"You have such nice eyes, Prof." Perhaps the affectionate comment, at normal, would have resulted in Al either snapping at her or Fendi taking it in earnest, but either way, that's the breaking point for him. The Prof let out a choked sob he had attempted to hide and Lucy's eyes widen, shocked of his reaction. "By 'eck, Prof. Don't cry. It'll be okay. You hear da ambulance, don't ya?" That he can. They're faint, but he can hear them nevertheless. Help. Help was on the way. Yes.

"Don't you dare leave me, Lucy Baker! I'll make you regret it. So much!" She can't tell which personality said it, but the sentimentality still remained. She quirks a smile. "Don't you dare. I need you, my dear."

"Blimey, it's really..." she lets out a struggled breath, but she's still breathing. Good. Good. Yes. Breathing is phenomenal. "I'm just your assistant. You're...the great Alfendi Layton, aren't ya?" How could she see herself like that? Even after she's made herself detrimental to him?

"I need you. You're not just my assistant. You're _everything_. I need you." He repeats firmly, leaning forward to her and pressing his forehead to hers in an intimate gesture. She looks at him and he swears he can see stars within her eyes, beauty that he knew was there all along but had yet to quite acknowledge it fully. He wants to memorize every bit of her eyes, the way that they glowed when she makes the right deduction and wins his praise; the way that it shines when she's coming into the Mystery Room at least half an hour late; the way they look at him in a loving grace that he's surprised he's never noticed. Why is it that humans realize things when it's too late? " _I need you_. The Mystery Room would mean nothing without you in it." Her name spills out of his mouth like a prayer as he cradles her softly and she groans.

Lucy attempts to focus in on him, on the way he looks at her, but it's a struggle, Alfendi can tell. Each time she blinks, the slower she gets at opening them. She makes the effort, however, to lift her other hand to his cheek and caresses it lightly, lovingly. He leans into it, begging for the ambulance to come faster, pleading for the universe to offer him some sort of mercy. For all the crimes he's solved, perhaps. A trade-off. He finds himself apologizing internally for all the times he threatened people, all the times he had offended others in his drive to solve cases. Would the universe take such quick apologies, he wondered. He thought he used up all of his good karma when he was given Lucy Baker, who subsequently cleared his name and stayed with him through it all. Perhaps he could get another wish? Could the universe offer him one more miracle?

"Aye, am I allowed say I love you or is that...a breach of professionalism?" She inquires, smiling now. It had the dreamy quality, the type that looked like you'd know you were about to die. He paled, not necessarily shocked at the admission of love--people on the brink of death tend to say such things--but it takes him aback all the same.

"Stop saying such _stupid_ things, Baker. You're going into shock." He snaps to her, but the tears streaming down his cheeks are strong, much to his dismay. He's not even sure what he's upset at. The comment of breaching professionalism or the confession? She chuckles at that, trembling now.

"I think I've been in shock for awhile, Prof. I love you. You're supposed to say it back, right? If the telly's told me anythin'." She grunts, swallowing. "Not the...ideal situation to admit, but it'll do, eh?" He grabs her wrist, staining it with her own blood like a tattoo.

"Yes, yes...I love you too. So much. Ever since." She lets out a hum of affirmation, eyes closing properly now, the hand on his cheek falling away to the floor with a light thud. He doesn't get the moment to even yell out her name in terror as he's pulled away from her, hands checking him. He doesn't know when he barks out that he's fine, but he does, and the paramedics back off after determining all the blood on his person was not his.

The motions he makes are, at best, hazy, but he feels a strong pair of feminine hands hold him and lead him into a car, out of the scene of the crime. Shiny high heels, striped skirt with a watch attached, he knows it's Hilda without even looking up. Even the perfume was enough to tell it was her. How did she get here? When? She's in the driver's seat, saying something about following the ambulance but all the sounds are wrong. Everything looks wrong. Everything smells wrong. He still smells the tang of blood. Lucy's blood. Al and Fendi are quiet, seething. Everything is so loud around him.

"Hilda." Fendi mutters, staring at his hands that were still stained with Lucy's blood. Her blood. It's like a tattoo against his olive skin. She looks at him through the rearview mirror, eyes betraying ever so little in regards to her own state of mind. He can't even bring himself to say Lucy's name, "She's...okay?"

"Yes." Her words are affirming enough to his ringing ears as she turns on the siren to the car and speeds through the busy London streets. "We'll be there soon, I promise you that." He merely nods and allows the silence inside his mind to encompass him. Neither wants to speak. Neither dares to. There was nothing to speak of.

The ride is jarringly quiet and efficient because of the sirens. Before he knows it, Hilda is already helping him out of the car and asking for Lucy to the person at the desk--Rory's voice from before--mentioning that she was in surgery and where they can wait. He wonders what he'd be doing had it not been for Hilda or if there weren't any officers to stop him from inflicting pain to the young man who had done this to his dear assistant. He doesn't dwell too much on it--he's here.

He finds himself hauled over to the waiting room, the smell of sterile bothering his senses. Hilda looms over him, bringing him coffee that he doesn't quite drink, but the concept that she's caring for him is oddly satisfactory. It at least masks the smell of hospital,. Time crawls past, the ticking of the clock on the wall almost enough to make him go mad. A doctor eventually comes out to inform the two of them that she's fine, she's in recovery, and will soon be moved to her own room, if they would like to be there when she comes. He doesn't even realize how tense he is until the doctor leaves and he lets his shoulders slump slightly.

"Hilda, you don't have to stay anymore. I'm fine." Fendi mutters, the fifth cup of coffee pushed into his hands, the other four hardly touched. Hilda clicks her tongue, sighing.

"Barton already knows. There's no problem in me staying, Al." At a lack of response, she adds quietly, "You need a friend." He doesn't respond to that either, instead narrowing his eyes at the linoleum flooring. Hilda is already lifting him up to take him to her room, to which he practically is dragged to.

Lucy is rolled in a couple minutes later and Hilda lets out a soft gasp. It's the first time Alfendi lets himself look up since getting to the hospital and she looks all wrong. He does everything he can to swallow the lump of emotion that threatens to escape. Lucy looks all wrong. The vibrancy of her colours are lost on the fluorescent lighting, looking like some poor silent film from years ago. Her petite figure has never been as exaggerated than in the hospital bed and he just wants to shake all the greyness away, to replace the vibrancy that was lost between the last time he had seen her smile to now. She was no better than the drab colors of the four walls surrounding her.

It was better, however, than seeing her dead.

He gets the motivation to move close, to which Hilda grabs a nearby chair and situates it next to Lucy's silently breathing frame. He accepts it gratefully, slumping down onto it and bringing himself closer, clasping her hand in his. Warm. It was a soothing feeling, more for himself than her. She was here. She was hurt but alive. _Alive_.

"Do you have her hat?" Fendi asks to the other woman, who is surprised that he even addresses her, let alone asks for something like that out of the blue. Hilda blinks, processing what he had asked, and nods.

"Yeah. All her clothes, along with your lab coat are in a bag of evidence. Dartwright is already picking up the case to finish and put the young man behind bars." Alfendi ignores the mention of his irritating coworker, opting to merely nod and place his head on the bed once again. He takes comfort in hearing her breaths, something he would never admit on a normal basis.

A nurse eventually shows up, file in her hand and peers at the scene. Hilda flicks her eyes up behind her eyelashes.

"Alfendi Layton?" The nurse asks to him.

"Yeah." He murmurs in affirmation. The nurse merely peers at the file.

"Alright. Just checking." She nods between the Inspectors and leaves. Alfendi closes his eyes. There wasn't anyone the woman needed to call; he was the only emergency contact.

And he was right here, right where he belonged.

By her side.

* * *

The fifth time Alfendi gets a phone call, he doesn't have to abuse the authority of his badge to brute force his way for answers, nor does he have to hesitate in his words. The ring on his finger says all there needed to be, if the file wasn't clear enough:

**_EMERGENCY CONTACT: Alfendi Layton_ **  
**_RELATIONSHIP: Husband_ **

**Author's Note:**

> really, I was going to make this one of those 5+1s, but meh, I just wanted to get to the climax so fast.
> 
> you know what’s crazy? the amount of words here expands more than how much my doctor who fanfictions—a fandom I’ve been in since I was 13–which is absolutely nuts to me. when I surpass in the amount of stories (29, I believe) I will be ever so astounded.


End file.
